<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>the boy saw a comet by perceptivePecan</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25398700">the boy saw a comet</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/perceptivePecan/pseuds/perceptivePecan'>perceptivePecan</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Homestuck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Depression, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Isolation, Loneliness, M/M, Meteorstuck, Trans Male Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:22:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,603</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25398700</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/perceptivePecan/pseuds/perceptivePecan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Karkat Vantas and you’re an insomniac, which is depressing because the most you talk to anybody these days is when you’re asleep. Not only is it depressing, but it’s really taking a toll on you mentally. At least the dead have a fixed reality, somewhat of a conclusion to their story, to their lives. You, on the other hand, have to deal with multiple realities; being awake and then dreaming, and having to keep going, because what else is there really?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>64</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So this was part of another work I wrote but I was craving davekat and this sort of happened.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You wake up on a pile of books in your block of the meteor.</p><p>Rubbing the hair and sleep from your eyes, you sit up and look around you. Your block has old movie posters and books stacked around, some dvds and blankets off in the corner that you never really use. You try to keep it tidy, but sometimes you just can’t be bothered.</p><p>Your throat is dry, and your tongue feels like sandpaper in your mouth. You pick yourself up with a groan, and head out towards the canteen area to make some coffee, settling at the table as you sip at the black liquid and stare off at nothing for a while. Nobody is around, which is perfectly fine with you. Well, it’s not, but if you had to deal with people it would probably be awkward as fuck right now.</p><p>You don’t get much sleep nowadays. Truthfully, you never did well when it came to sleep. The game and everything that came after it only ever made you more anxious, and the most sleep you tend to get is when you get an hour or two every other day, or if you pass out without your knowledge.</p><p>Your name is Karkat Vantas and you’re an insomniac, which is depressing because the most you talk to anybody these days is when you’re asleep. Not only is it depressing, but it’s really taking a toll on you mentally. At least the dead have a fixed reality, somewhat of a conclusion to their story, to their lives. You, on the other hand, have to deal with multiple realities; being awake and then dreaming, and having to keep going, because what else is there really?</p><p>You know it’s not healthy to be so despondent, but who can blame you? Most of your friends are dead, your home is gone and your future is uncertain, and the people you’re stuck with on your three year journey aren’t really your friends. You might as well still be on Alternia, at least you knew what to expect from that life.</p><p>“Yo,” Dave says as he passes you, heading over to the refrigerator. “Someone looks a little dopey today. Or tonight? Who can even tell anymore? Like lmao we get it already it’s the void of time and space, which in and of itself is kind of its own joke? Shitty joke but still, meteorstuck humour with ya boy D Stride.”</p><p>He hasn’t gotten better over the time he’s been here with you. He doesn’t like you and you don’t like him. It’s as simple as that. Fuck him and his wretched shitwiff and his rapping and his stupid humour and his inability to unhatch himself so you never had to meet him.</p><p>“Eat a dick,” you tell him plainly, and take another drink.</p><p>“Wow,” he says as he closes the fridge, holding a carton of milk in his hands. You cringe at the sight of it. “How do you know what a dick is?”</p><p>“Dick is a universal concept, you goatstrangling footfucker.” You snap back. “Plus you always talk about dicks. Of course I know what they are.”</p><p>“... Yikes, dopey and angy. Karkitty needs a nap,” he puts together some tea, one of herbal ones Rose usually drinks when she isn’t boozing it.</p><p>You roll your eyes, trying your best to appear unprovoked. And probably failing. You wish you were unconscious so you didn’t have to deal with people like him.</p><p>You hear him rattling a spoon around inside a mug as he stirs in some milk. You begin to fume a little, glaring over at him. You don’t know if he’s doing it intentionally or not, because it’s Dave. He could be trying to fuck with you, but he could also be that fucking absentminded.</p><p>“I have a headache, can you stop it?”</p><p>He pauses his stirring, and glances back, before sitting the spoon off to the side. He stands there for a bit with his back facing you as he takes some sips, some audible sips. Some very audible sips.</p><p>You’re about to shout at him when he starts coughing and you hear some wet sounds, then he quietly sits the tea down and wipes his mouth with his sleeve.</p><p>Your brows tighten at the scene, before one pokes up. “You okay there?”</p><p>He nods, “perfect.”</p><p>“Uhuh,” you take a sip of your coffee as you watch him.</p><p>He lets out a quiet sigh, one that you’re sure he was trying to keep silent, before nudging the mug away from him.</p><p>“You’re lingering, asslord,” you speak up since the silence and his presence are beginning to bother you.</p><p>“Asslord,” you hear him scoff, turning around to face you as he leans back against the counter. “It’s all dicks and asses today.”</p><p>“Apparently,” you look back down at your coffee, letting the side of your face rest against your fist.</p><p>“... So?” He asks.</p><p>You don’t bother to glance up, “so…?”</p><p>“Where the hell have you been?”</p><p>You look up and see those shades staring at you, his arms are folded and he seems expectant. “What kind of question is that? And don’t say some cliche shit like ‘ the one where I expect an answer ’. I’ve had enough back talking for a lifetime. Believe me.”</p><p>His lips make a little popping sound after a few moments. “I see.” He drums his fingers across the arms of his red godtier outfit. “I mean if you really don’t want to tell me, that’s cool. I’ll just be around. Doing my thing, making all the ladies swoon, cultivating the sickest of beats, reimagining the premise of existential awakening, considering my own inevitable demise whilst also contemplating how many shades of grey there actually are as I stare at these bleak ass fuckin’ walls.”</p><p>You huff, only slightly amused but eighty nine percent of you is still hating on him.</p><p>“Want to hear something I made?”</p><p>“Not particularly,” you grumble out.</p><p>“Sick, give me a minute, I’ll send it to you.” He pulls out his phone and begins tapping away at it with his thumbs, until you hear your little crabwatch device buzz on your wrist. </p><p>You roll up your sleeve and stare at him, and he just watches you intently. You squint at him before looking down at the crab and then play the song he sent you. It’s slow, but the rhythm is there and it’s consistent, with the odd stray beat here and there. It isn’t bad. Not very good either, but he seems to be waiting for you to respond, either with approval or displeasure. When it ends you roll down your sleeve and look over at him.</p><p>He doesn’t really move much, just stands there and waits.</p><p>“It was fine,” you tell him, before going back to your coffee.</p><p>He puts a hand over his chest and feigns offence. “Ouch, just fine? Guess I am running out of inspiration on this meteor. At least you guys could hop on a computer and go batshit bananas with trolling people. Specifically us.” He scratches his chin lightly. “I mean you might have trolled other people, I guess. Probably each other.”</p><p>“No, you four were the only ones.” You answer matter-of-factly.</p><p>“Man, that just makes me miss John and Jade. We’ve been hurtling through space at the speed of I can’t remember, and we still have however fucking long to go. Can this trip, like, be over soon? You know what I mean?”</p><p>“Yeah,” you admit. “I get you.” You don’t tell him what you want to say, because you’re not that much of an asshole. You don’t want to be that much of an asshole. <em>At least all of your friends are still alive</em>.</p><p>“Hello, Dave, Karkat,” you hear Rose enter the canteen, heading towards where Dave is standing.</p><p>You give her an obligated hello and continue to nurse the rest of your coffee. She seems to catch on to what you had noticed; Dave is blocking the view to the mug and the countertop behind him. As she moves to try and see what he has done, he moves a little more to block her view.</p><p>“Dave,” she says knowingly, “what did you do this time?”</p><p>His lips pinch together and he shrugs, “nothing.”</p><p>“I believe that as much as you believe in the boogeyman, Strider,” she warns.</p><p>“What? He isn’t real? Who the fuck is going to give me presents at Hanukkah? Sure as hell isn’t the Tooth Fairy, they’re on vacation during the chill season. I hear the Bahamas are nice around that time of year. Wait, shit. Bahamas don’t exist anymore, so that means the Tooth Fairy has nowhere to spend the winter. This is like the polar bears and the icecaps, I swear. Fucking tragic. Guess I am getting my good boy presents this year. Unless my gods are also dead. Like everyone else.”</p><p>Rose shakes and holds her head. “Your ability to redirect is as impressive as your exterior.”</p><p>“Naturally,” he nods.</p><p>“She means it’snot impressive, you dingus,” you tell him, just to make him squirm more.</p><p>He frowns for a moment, perhaps a little upset by your comment. “Didn’t realise you had such a fine eye for detail, Mr I don’t know what a hairbrush is.”</p><p>“Original, Dave, and classy.” Rose rebuttals and nudges him out of the way. “Dave,” she says with a long sigh, “you put milk in your green tea?”</p><p>“Don’t look at me you guys stole it from eastern culture, not me,” he looks away.</p><p>“Dave,” she says again. “We’re both from the same country. And you could have at least tidied the place up after yourself. You got milky green tea and spit all over the counter. There’s some on the wall there, too.”</p><p>He pouts, looking at her like he just got told off by his lusus.</p><p>On that note, you pick yourself up and go shove your mug in the sink. You’ll get it later, it’s not as if you haven’t got time to clean it at some point in the future. As you walk off, you give Dave another look, and for a brief moment, you catch him looking at you too.</p><p>“What’s wrong with him?” You hear him ask just as you exit the canteen. You don’t stick around to hear Rose’s answer.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>You might just try to go back to sleep.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW: Depression, vague Suicide Ideation, general not great thinking habits.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>You don’t really leave your block anymore.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s quiet and monotonous most of the time. Some days all you have is the sound of your own breathing, loud in your head as air comes and goes from your nostrils like some wheezing animal. You’ve grown to enjoy the sound, almost like it’s a shush. But a part of you resents the idea that you get some sick pleasure from bringing yourself comfort that could have come from someone else.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You miss your friends. You miss yelling. You miss the noise. You miss having people want to be around you.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You check your messages, like you do every time you fail to go to sleep. You’re always online, and you know people can see that you’re always online, always ready to receive a salutation; because you like people, you like talking to them, you like ranting and swearing and having everyone just accept that that is a part of who you are.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nobody messages anymore.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sure, there are group memos for everyone on the meteor -talking about bullshit that might as well mean nothing- but it doesn’t feel the same when you aren’t personally getting an acknowledgement. Sometimes the memos make you feel like a footnote. Although, sometimes it is funny to read, because Terezi or Dave says something so completely ridiculous that even you couldn’t have thought it up, and sometimes you start chiming in like you always did, and you feel alive for a while. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then you start thinking about how they all treat you now, and how you treat them, and you don’t know what to feel.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You loved her, and you never really tried to do anything about that. Perhaps that’s for the best? You don’t deserve someone like her. You were selfish enough to string her along with the hint that you could have been something other than what you know you are; a mutant ripe and ready for culling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then Dave. You kind of despise him; because he’s an obnoxious asshole. He makes fun of you, he bothers you whenever he can, he makes you feel small. And he baited her away from you.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You want to hate him for that. But really it’s your own fault. You never tried hard enough to let her know how strongly you felt, or maybe you did, and she must have gotten sick of waiting for you to grow a pair and try to make it a reality. Regardless of your feelings towards either of them, you don’t want to stop her from being happy. She deserves to be happy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You tried talking to Kanaya for a while; she had always been a reasonable person that seemed like she enjoyed being with you. But ever since she met Rose -who you just don’t want to talk to because she isn’t your kind of person- she doesn’t have too much time for you. She’s either with her, or talking about her, or busy doing her own thing, whatever that might be.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gamzee just stopped caring. There’s nothing more to say about that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s all your fault, really.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You didn’t try hard enough. You just sat by and let things happen. You’re basically a failure of a being.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You should have died with your friends; at least then you wouldn’t be forced to deal with the burden of living anymore. You wouldn’t have to continue fighting, preparing for what would happen after one and a half sweeps of being yeeted through time and space on the meteor your friends killed each other on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You aren’t suicidal, you’re pretty sure of that; you don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to die. You’re just kind of ready for it. You always have been, in a way. Death is always a possibility, especially for someone like you. And yet here you are, still alive, for whatever reason. Maybe it’s punishment for… Well, everything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You sigh, and go rummage through your dvd collection. There are some real classics amongst them, both from Alternia and Earth, but you resort to a bundle from home that you think might make you feel better.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You gently place one into your husktop and start watching, growing more comfortable in the heat beneath your blanket pile. It’s nice, almost like being back in your hive, waiting for the moment your lusus started screeching out for attention. You huff at the memory of it. You don’t know what else you could have done differently with your life, and you’re not willing to talk to another version of yourself to find out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After finishing In Which A Daring Sea Captain Overcomes the Fierce Reality Of An Evolving World That Threatens His Very Way of Life, And Seeks the Help Of A Young And Brave Rustblood That Is Madly Flushed For A Highblood Who Longs For More In Life And Proceeds To Helps Them Find The Way To Freedom In A World That Seeks To End Their Very Existence, you put on another one; one of your more saucy movies; In Which A High Strung And High Maintenance Teal Struggles To Find Romance Due To Her Her Inability To Let Her Guard Down, Until She Encounters A Laid Back Lowblood Who Teaches Her How To Let Loose And Find Love Through Pure Unadulterated Sexual Energy, Only For The Two Of Them To Fall Pitch For One Another In A Shocking Twist Near the Finale And Realise That Their Strength Of Character Was Enough For A Relationship, But Also A Satisfying Amount Of Sexual Activity Is Important To Their Attraction.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s some in your face sexual scenes throughout that make you feel a bit awkward, but overall you like the humour in it, you like the building tension and the release, and how they express their hatred for one another, but don’t abandon who they are initially to do it. It’s a comforting aspect, even if it’s not the best adaptation of blackrom; you’ve seen movies that do it better. This one just likes the sex scenes too much. Which isn’t necessarily bad; it’s just that if you wanted to watch smut; you’d just go watch porn.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The movie ends, and you let out a deep sigh, resting your cheek on your fist, jaw listing off to the side so your teeth poke out in a way that looks more than a little strange. You look odd in your reflection of the black credits scene. You frown at yourself and focus on the image of your face. You look… Kind of terrible?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You close over your husktop and head off to shower. Maybe the beating of running water will make you feel better.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So I could have done this better. But I really wanted to get across the depression/isolation aspect to get you into Karkat’s mindset. I might have made it too blunt? I don’t know. Next chapter will be better/longer, and a little less depressing (maybe haha)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i genuinely spent so goddamn long trying to get colours to format for the chats, but nothing worked so i said fuck it.  please enjoy.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><b>TurntechGodhead</b> [<b>TG</b>] began pestering <b>carcinoGeneticist</b> [<b>CG</b>]</p><p>
  <b>TG: hey so what is wrong with you people</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: is it just an inherent thing for trolls or were you guys a special case like a bunch of societal rejects kind of how we were</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: because let me tell you the culture shock is hitting me hard</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: very hard</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: immensely hard</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: throbbingly hard</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: you know like the universal dick we talked about</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: wow really no reply yet damn</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: kinda sucks</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: thought me you and the d had a thing</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: im taking custody of the little guy if youre this neglectful of us</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: little dick junior esquire needs reliable people in his life</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: im calling him dj esquire now btw</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: dont forget to send payments hes yours too i wont remind you again</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: how am i supposed to raise a child on top of work and college those funds are essential</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: only just realising this puts me in the position as mommy</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: do i look like a mommy to you</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: NO YOU DONT DAVE FUCK FUCK FUCK</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: wow thanks karkat</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: dude</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: hey bro</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: carcino royale</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: genetikat</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: vantass</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: really making me resort to spam</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: so youre either asleep or ghosting me</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG; you could be dead</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: you better not be dead</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: the clown is stashing bodies all over the place like his personal house of horror just no thanks im good</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: dont need to see a dead midget</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: already seen enough bodies for a lifetime</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: bodies for days</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: dicks for days</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: jesus really dick always gets a response out of you eventually</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: do trolls even have dicks</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: actually dont answer that</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: la sigh </b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: daves making an ass of himself again</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: the crowd goes wild</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: hear it</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: all for dave because he is hellacious</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: because of course i am</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: its quiet without you by the way</b>
</p><p> </p><p>You’re awoken by the onslaught of notification after notification from your still open husktop, the noise is enough to make you jerk from your sleep. You had been dreaming again, unable to find anyone in the bubbles; only a large stretch of blackness, and tremendous, bright cracks erupting across the sky as laughter played over and over like an old loop of recording that someone kept winding back on a cassette tape.</p><p>When you finally quit panting and staring about the shadows surrounding your block, you wipe the cold sweat and damp hair from your brow and glance at the screen in front of you, a little jarred by the brightness of it in contrast to the rest of the room. With your pulse still hammering in your ears, you read through the messages and try to relax your breathing; <em>in for five seconds through the nose, hold for seven, out for five through the mouth</em>. You’re a little dizzy after a minute of doing this, but you feel more steady, more cemented in the here and now. You let your head clear before letting your fingers do the talking.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>CG: HEY.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: I WAS ASLEEP.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: WHAT’S UP?</b>
</p><p> </p><p>You become aware of just how grossly sweaty you are, having to wipe yourself with various parts of your sweater.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>TG: the ceiling</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: fuck you</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: FUCK OFF</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: close enough</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: OH WOW BECAUSE NOBODY WOULD HAVE ANTICIPATED THE WORD *FUCK* TO BE UTTERED BY KARKAT SHITEATING VANTAS. HOW VERY PERCEPTIVE OF YOU DAVE. YOU APPEAR TO HAVE DISCOVERED MY HIDDEN TRUMP CARD. I CONGRATULATE YOU WITH THE HOLY PISCATORIAL THAT DWELLS ON MY MIDDLE FINGER.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: yeah see you get the joke well done</b>
</p><p> </p><p>You growl at your husktop, preparing mentally to snap the damn thing in half.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>CG: WHAT DO YOU WANT?</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: you obviously</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: YOU FUCKING WHAT.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: i could do so much with that statement ngl</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: but im wearing my big boy pants and some things are better left to the imagination</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: WHAT. DO. YOU. ACTUALLY. WANT?</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: right</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: so</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: there comes a time in your life when you have to actually stop and think about things</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: big things you know</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: important things</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: kind of not really life altering things but they feel like that when you have to actually sit and go over that shit in your head for hours upon days upon fuck even knows at this point</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: stuff isnt really fitting together right</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: slot b doesnt fit into tab a</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: or other way around i guess</b>
</p><p><b>TG: and im </b> <b>basically in this zone of perpetual ambiguity</b></p><p>
  <b>TG: and you seemed like the right person to talk to</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: no bs</b>
</p><p> </p><p>You frown at this, fingers twitching above the keyboard. You can’t really ignore him, even if he's consistently a factor into your depression, it’s not in your nature and you know it, and right now you just need someone to talk to.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>CG: WHY?</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: nobody else is around</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: YES THEY ARE?</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: they really arent</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: rose is sloshed and makes things weird because yknow of course she does with her psychobabble slurs and diving into things she should really leave alone</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: mayor is the best damn friend you could ever wish for but I have a feeling he just wants me to be okay rather than doing anything to actually help </b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: not for a lack of trying though that one might just be on me</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: clown guy freaks me out im glad i never see him tbh</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: and kanaya isnt someone id talk to shes nice and all but not really someone id sit down and feel comfortable venting to</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: YOU'VE LEFT SOMEONE OUT.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>You take note of the fact he pauses before responding.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>TG: i suppose i have</b>
</p><p> </p><p>You bite at your lip and look away for a minute, making an attempt to steady yourself mentally before messaging back.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>CG: WHAT’S WRONG THEN?</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: what isnt</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: im just sitting here in my room wondering what the hell i should have done</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: if I was just being an idiot thinking that idk</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: if it was worth it</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: WHAT’S THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: i broke up with tz</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: a while back</b>
</p><p> </p><p>Your lips part as you read that, not so dramatic as you wish it was, but you quickly make up for that. “What the shitmongering fuck?” You don’t feel any less dissatisfied. “Was she not good enough for you? Did you get tired of the novelty of dating an alien? I can’t fucking-“ you slam your head into the keyboard.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>CG: kiGrKGGH5KLAAWGU;IL</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: whoa dude you alright</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: I’M FINE.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: WHAT HAPPENED.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: feel like i should be asking you that</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: did you actually just headbang your keyboard please say yes thatll cure me</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: DAVE.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: bang bang keyboard spam spam dave</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: things are beginning to look pretty bleak on this goddamn meteor what next we start sharpening our respective utensils and kill off the kids that try to challenge our lawless behaviour</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: ill just blow the fat shell and try organise these kids until the military shows up</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: probably gonna die though</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: death is always a valid response</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: SHUT THE FUCK UP.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: we should watch lord of the flies sometime</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: that or cannibal holocaust</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: STOP IT.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>You take a breath. You don’t need to think about those things.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>CG: YOU’RE AVOIDING THE ISSUE.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: TALK TO ME OKAY?</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: I’M LISTENING.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: *reading</b>
</p><p> </p><p>You don’t give him an answer for that, you just fold your arms and let him figure out that you’re going to sit and wait for him to explain.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>TG: okay</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: things happened</b>
</p><p> </p><p>He seems to leave you waiting.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>CG: WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THINGS?</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: just things you know</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: things that make relationships between humans and trolls difficult</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: except for lesbians i guess they can do what they want and nobody including them gives a flying fuck</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: OH.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: DO YOU HAVE AN ISSUE?</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: what </b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: with trolls you mean</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: course not</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: with being cheated on</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: yeah</b>
</p><p> </p><p>“Oh.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>CG: OH.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: IS THIS ABOUT THE CULTURAL DIVIDE OR DID SHE ACTUALLY CHEAT ON YOU.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: shes fucking the clown so</b>
</p><p> </p><p>You have to pause.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>CG: AND HOW WOULD YOU KNOW THAT?</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: I asked her</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: she came to hang out one time all bruised up</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: and other things okay shit was nasty</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: so i asked her wtf you okay</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: and she told me not to worry about it</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: but duh of course i worried about it and got her to tell me</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: shes hatebanging the clown</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: nothing more to say</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: ARE YOU SERIOUS.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: oh yeah because im going to confess to cucking myself for no reason goddamn classic move</b>
</p><p> </p><p><b>carcinoGeneticist</b> [<b>CG</b>] began trolling <b>gallowsCallibrator</b> [<b>GC</b>]</p><p>
  <b>CG: HEY.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: IT’S ME.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: LOOK I KNOW I HAVEN’T BEEN THE MOST ACTIVE LATELY. I’VE ACTUALLY BEEN A COMPLETE ASSHOLE, TO ABSOLUTELY NO ONE'S SURPRISE. BUT I JUST WANT</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: WELL I DON’T KNOW.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: I REALLY DON’T KNOW ANYMORE.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: JUST ANSWER ME WHEN YOU CAN. WE SHOULD TALK.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>You pinch the bridge of your nose, and shake your head.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>CG: I’M COMING OVER.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: why</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: BECAUSE I AM.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: whatever</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: meet you in the tt room then</b>
</p><p><b>turntechGodhead</b> [<b>TG</b>] ceased pestering <b>carcinoGeneticist</b> [<b>CG</b>]</p><p> </p><p>You stare at the letters under your fingertips for a few minutes, failing to suppress a hard groan as you stare at the messages you left Terezi; which she hasn’t answered.</p><p>You close over the husktop and leave it there next to your blanket pile that could do with a bit of a wash. You don’t shower or change clothes, you don’t exactly smell like a basket of daisies, but this is some serious shit happening on your goddamn meteor; you don’t have time for hygiene. You really need to consider hygiene more, though, when things aren’t fucking batshit backwards.</p><p>You arrive at the tabletop room; a dull block plastered with posters and drawings from your abandoned D&amp;D campaigns. At first it was something to distract everyone from dying of boredom and build up some kind of comradery and rapport. But gradually everyone just stopped caring. Now all that remains is a dusty old table and chairs, and some worn down pictures on the walls.</p><p>You hear a small sneeze. Barely even a sneeze, actually; you’ve heard sneezes before, but it sounded smaller, but higher in pitch to what you’ve heard before.</p><p>When you enter the roleplay block you notice the red cape first, and then the cloud of dust coming from the table.</p><p>Dave lets out what sounds like a pained sigh and wipes his face with his sleeve, before noticing that you’ve arrived from over his shoulder. “Hey.”</p><p>“Hey,” you answer, and slowly walk into the room, glancing about at the posters of your alternate selves. “So, what is this about?”</p><p>He hops up on the table, which he must have tried to dust off before, like an idiot. “I mean,” he pulls his head to the side, “I thought we went over that already.”</p><p>“Yeah, I got that. But why in the shit would you come to me, about this of all things. It’s a conflict of interest and you know it. Plus you hate me.”</p><p>You don’t see his expression change behind his shades, “unless this is a huge ploy to lure me out of my block so you can rile up the short tempered troll. I wouldn’t fucking blame you at this point.”</p><p>“What?” His body stutters. “No. But that’s an added bonus, I guess.”</p><p>You huff, and hold your ground, unmoving.</p><p>“You look like shit.”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“No no, I mean worse than usual.”</p><p>You glance away and let out a quiet growl. You know it’s true. You don’t have a reason to keep up appearances -not like you ever did, to be fair- and you don’t talk to anybody anymore, or see your friends, so what’s the point in looking anything less than how you feel?</p><p>He coughs, catching your attention. “Want to go hang out with the mayor?”</p><p>“Why would I want to do that?” You contest, more than a little cautious.</p><p>“Dude,” he places a hand on his chest, “why <em> wouldn’t </em>you want to do that? The mayor is a gift to the universe, you should feel honoured at the chance to sit with him as he builds Can Town. He'd even bestow upon you the opportunity to assist him in his democratically benevolent creation.”</p><p>You’re not sure what this means, so you just cock a brow.</p><p>His lips pinch together and he crosses his feet, allowing them to swing back and forth. “It’s relaxing, and kind of distracting for a while. Plus nobody else really hangs out with him. I feel kind of obligated to keep him company in case he gets lonely, y'know? It’d be nice if more people gave him attention.”</p><p>You wonder if he’s implying a parallel between the mayor and yourself, but you doubt Dave is smart enough to pull that kind of connection out of his ass. “He’s a carapacian. I doubt he feels anything other than what he’s driven to feel through impulse.”</p><p>That appears to amuse Dave, because he just chuckles at what you said. “Sounds like an average person to me.”</p><p>Your head tilts at that, and you find yourself unsure of how you should respond.</p><p>“So yes, no, maybe?”</p><p>“Maybe. At some point. Is that satisfactory?” You hope it is.</p><p>He shrugs.</p><p>“Now, about Terezi,” you start, gesturing a little with your hands as you move closer to Dave and the table. “Is this for advice or are you looking for someone to vent to?” You pull out a chair and sit, looking up at him.</p><p>He shrugs again. “Not really something I feel like talking about. Not in person at least.”</p><p>“Why?” You tilt your head.</p><p>“... Conflict of interest? And maybe talking about shit in my head with another person makes me uncomfortable?” He says this as if it’s the most obvious thing. Because it kind of is. But it does get him talking.</p><p>You nod. “I get it. I’m a shitlord and I’m an asshole, and we haven't exactly been 'best bros', but I do want to help. Genuinely.”</p><p>You see his lips pinch tight as he looks down at his slowly swaying feet. “You don’t get it, is the main issue I’m noticing.”</p><p>You rest an arm on the table, prompting him to continue with silence.</p><p>He looks at you, at least you think he does because his head moved around and you’re faced with his shades. “I don’t do… Like-“ his expression constricts around those stupid eye coverings, “poly relationships? So fucking formal sounding… I just don’t like the idea of being with someone knowing that they will go behind my back with someone else.”</p><p>You nod… “Okay? No, that sounds perfectly valid. But it all depends on what kind of relationship you and her had. I always guessed it was red, but might have been pale? I don’t know, you’ll have to fill me in.”</p><p>He pouts, “we were dating.”</p><p>“<em>Y</em><em>ou </em> were <em> human dating</em>. S<em>he </em> was <em> troll dating. </em> There’s a difference.”</p><p>He scoffs and rolls his head in a different direction. “I <em> know </em>that.”</p><p>“Then what’s the problem?”</p><p>“It was a fucking lie. That’s the problem,” he bites back. “News flash; it hurts, dipshit. It hurts when you know you weren’t up to your at-the-time girlfriends standards enough for her to find someone else, it hurts seeing her covered in cuts and bruises all of a sudden and find out it’s because she’s doin' it with some shitfaced juggalo that hides in the vents and murdered a bunch of people. It <em>hurts</em> having known that this multiple relationships at a time shit was inevitable, and I still kept going, because I thought the alien thing wouldn’t be that big of a problem. But nope. The universe decided to take a gargantuan shit on Dave Strider. Because fuck that guy.”</p><p>Your lips pinch together and you just stare at him, unsure exactly of what to say.</p><p>“Just say something.”</p><p>You clack your teeth together. “She wasn’t cheating on you.”</p><p>He doesn’t answer immediately, but his legs stop moving and he lets out this soul crushing groan like he’s having to answer a question he’s answered a hundred times before. “When you’re dating someone,” he begins, “and they start doing it with someone else while they are with you. That’s <em>cheating</em>.”</p><p>You raise your hand in explanation. “For a human, yeah, because your species does things ass-backwards romantically. But she’s a troll! For us there are quadr-“ “Oh shut the fuck up,” he snaps back, cutting you off. </p><p>“I’m a goddamn human, and this is how I see things. You think I don’t know about your dumbass quadrants? Of course I do, you shoved that shit down my fucking throat ever since the topic of ‘romance’ first came up. And you know how you did it? By trying to imply that I either back off altogether from a girl that I liked, <em>who liked me</em>, or, later, as an alternative to that, fucking <em> share </em> her. What the actual fuck is wrong with you?”</p><p>You take a step back.</p><p>“I get it, okay? We’re not the same species and we have different ways of thinking.” He turns away, leaning over his legs, bending his back. “I just hate this feeling.”</p><p>You frown at that. “... What feeling?”</p><p>“Every feeling,” he glances back at you. “I told you. Zone of perpetual ambiguity. Bullshit fucking existence stuck here, doing approximately fuck all because everyone is just losing it. Even you. You don’t even talk to anyone anymore.”</p><p>You look away at that. The things he’s said are things you’ve thought about. You’re a horrible person. You try not to be, you really do, but you keep failing. Because that’s the kind of person you’ve become... No, you’ve always been like that, haven’t you?</p><p>“Whatever.” He announces. “This was just a bad idea.”</p><p>“No, wait, I-“ Before you can get the words out he’s gone, and you’re left sitting there at the table by yourself, surrounded by long dead images and dust.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“... I’m sorry.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>im currently working on a book so this is kind of more a little exploration into character and behaviour to keep my brain working at this point. dw im gonna keep writing, because of course ill keep writing davekat if you keep reading (even then if you dont read lmaoo i need coffee)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dave’s pov.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>You lie with your back pressed against the soft sheets of your bed in your room of the meteor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of your legs is crossed over the other and your foot bounces in the air almost absently. You’ve got your headphones on and you’re listening to something you made a little over a year ago. Was it a year ago? It feels like a year.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You listen for hours, or at least you believe it’s been that long. You’d probably be the most qualified to know, given you’re the Knight of Time. But you don’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All you know for sure is that it’s definitely been a few hours since you left Karkat in the tabletop room. You’ve had a lot of time to try and avoid thinking about it, but the memory keeps replaying over and over in your head, and every time you feel even less justified in what you said to him. Well, not less justified, because you didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>mean the words you said, but… You were the aggressor in that argument, and he looked like he was one wrong sentence away from a breakdown.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You bring up your phone and begin tapping away at it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>turntechGodhead [TG] </b>
  <span>began pestering </span>
  <b>carcinoGeneticist [CG]</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>TG: hey</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: so i realise i really went and flew off the proverbial handle</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: and i just wanted to say that i wasnt actively going out of my way to be an asshole</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: things just got a bit heated and I think some things were said that are regrettable</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: theres literally no other outlet for the shit i got going on in my head lately and you were just an easy target</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: which you didnt deserve in that specific situation</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: you were trying to be chill</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: and i failed at trying to be chill</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: im the asshole its me</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: im sorry</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You wait a minute, nearly putting your phone down in defeat before you get a notification.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>CG: ARE YOU?</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: as much as I can be</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: i meant what i said though</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: you were terrible up until recently</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: always sticking your nose in other peoples business just because you think you should be involved somehow</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: pretending to be some bigshot leader and coming across as just some douche that enjoys yelling at people and dictating how things go even if you don’t have any reason to be involved in the first place</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: okay i just did it again shit</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: I MEAN IT’S NOT UNTRUE.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: DON’T ASSUME I’M COMPLETELY OBLIVIOUS AND UP MY OWN ASS ABOUT THE WAY THINGS ARE, I KNOW HOW HORRIBLE I AM.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: have been</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: past tense</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: you were horrible</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: and now youre just kind of sad</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: if i mess with you nowadays I just feel like im kicking you while youre down</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: you make it so fucking easy though</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: its like your asking for someone to bother you I swear to god</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wait, was he? Was this another troll thing? Or was it just a Karkat thing?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You sit up against the wall and stretch out your legs, leaning over yourself in a way you know will make you uncomfortable in about ten minutes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>TG: are you still mad</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: WHAT DO YOU THINK?</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: im going to have to say yes</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: YOUR GUESS IS AS GOOD AS MINE.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: ha</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: DID YOU STILL WANT SOMETHING FROM ME OR CAN I GO.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You’re just about to tell him that he can go whenever he wants, but you realise that would mean he would likely just stop talking to you almost immediately, indefinitely.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>TG: maybe</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: YOU’RE REALLY QUITE AWFUL AT THIS.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: hey ive been open and honest</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: practically vulnerable like some kind of virgin trying to take a bath in peace when some big nosed dude comes in wanting favours or hell start damning me to hell and spreading nasty rumours about my pure visage</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: OKAY SO I’M GOING TO PRETEND I DIDN’T HAVE TO READ THAT.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: whatever helps you sleep at night</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: HAHAHAHA.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: was that sarcastic or did i actually get you to laugh</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: BOTH.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: both</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: IT’S FUNNY BECAUSE I DON’T SLEEP.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: WELL ACTUALLY I DO, BUT NOT MUCH.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: oh</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: question mark</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: I’VE ALWAYS HAD TROUBLE MAKING MYSELF UNCONSIOUS.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: oh right youre a nymphomaniac</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: A WHAT?</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: is that not</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: hold up</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Where have you heard that word before? You’re almost certain nymphomania is when you can’t sleep. Like a nymph, casting a spell on you, and you fall into a trance or something. Hence the sleep. Or lack of? Wait. Fuck. Something isn’t adding up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>turntechGodhead [TG] </b>
  <span>began pestering </span>
  <b>tentacleTherapist [TT]</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>TG: rose spitfire question</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: nymphomania is the one where you cant sleep right</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: rose</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: stop macking on the alien bloodsucker for a minute this is imperative</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TT: Impertative you say?</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: yeah</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TT: What could be sourgent about this particular question being answered? Are you perhaps engaging yourself in the related activities? Is this an epiphany of sorts?</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TT: Or have you jus made an ass out of yourself?</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: good to see the sauce is yet to be sampled today</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TT: Are you attempting to deflect any possibility of me providing you a satisfactory consultation of “imperative business” you had, Strider?</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: ...</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: rose please is it dirty</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TT: It is the dirtiest.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: well</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: damn</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TT: The word you may have been thinking of is insomnia, I believe.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: thanks k bye youve fulfilled your purpose to me</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TT: Anytime, dearest brother.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: same thanks for making it weird</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>TG: insomniac</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: YOU KNOW.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: I CAN’T TELL IF YOU’RE ONCE AGAIN FUCKING WITH ME OR IF YOU GENUINELY ARE THAT MENTALLY UNDERDEVELOPED.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: one of those def</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: whichever makes you less angry with me</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: OKAY.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: YOU GOT THE TINIEST OF CHUCKLES OUT OF ME FOR THAT.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: aw man hell yes</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: made the impossible happen</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: can tick that one off my bucket list</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: not the kinky bucket</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: get your mind out of the gutter this is a sfw convo</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: YOU SAY THAT, BUT YOU’RE THE ONE STARTING THE *NSFW* TALK.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: AND TALKING SHIT.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: SO MUCH SHIT</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: I’M BAFFLED BY IT ACTUALLY. HOW THE FUCK DO YOU HAVE FRIENDS? DO YOU SUBJECT THEM TO THIS SAME INFANTILE, DROOLING NONSENSE OR AM I A SPECIAL CASE?</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: OR IS THIS ANOTHER *CULTURAL DIFFERENCES* THING.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: you girlfriend seemed to like it</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You typed that and sent it before you even thought about it, and the moment your red text hits the screen, you feel your throat clench.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>TG: ok i did not mean that</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: WOW.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: JUST WOW.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>TG: i know</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You hold your head in your palm, pulling it down your face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>CG: YOU KNOW WHAT. I HAVE TRIED. AGAIN AND AGAIN. I HAVE MADE ATTEMPTS TO BE UNDERSTANDING, RESPECTFUL AND EVEN FUCKING CARING. AND THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT I DESERVE FOR FAILING AS A PERSON.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: FUCK YOU DAVE. I DON’T EVEN HAVE THE ENERGY FOR YOU ANYMORE.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: IF YOU EVEN TRY TO CONTACT ME AGAIN UNTIL THIS METEOR SLAMS TO A HALT AT OUR FINAL DESTINATION I WILL TEAR THOSE SHADES OFF OF YOUR FACE, SHOVE THEM SO FAR UP YOUR WASTE ORIFICE THAT I’LL BE ABLE TO PULL THEM OUT OF YOUR MOUTH.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: AND THEN I WILL SHOVE THEM BACK DOWN UNTIL YOU CHOKE ON YOUR OWN FECAL MATTER AND PLASTIC.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>CG: FUCK YOU.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>carcinoGeneticist [CG] </b>
  <span>ceased pestering </span>
  <b>turntechGodhead [TG]</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” you breathe, and smack your phone down on the bed and stair at the ceiling. “You know what. Yeah. I’m an asshole, I can’t disagree with that. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re girlfriend seemed to like it</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Jesus. That shit is straight out of a high school drama. Which would make sense if we went to high school. If any of us ever went to high school. But nope. We are living on a meteor in a section of reality that technically shouldn’t exist. A healthy environment for a group of mixed species teenagers, clearly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You roll your eyes and pull off your headphones, mumbling a little rap to yourself concerning the situation as you tap out the beat on your thigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You have to talk to him again. He’s the only other guy on the meteor and you are fresh out of penis. Which begs the question; do they even have one? You still don’t know if you want the answer to that. You also don’t know if you want people to know that you actually want to know. Because aliens. How do they do?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Probably not like animals on the Discovery channel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You get lost on that train of thought before picking yourself up off of the bed, captchaloguing your phone before heading out the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peace offering. You need a peace offering. If you were a troll, what would count as a peace offering? Not killing him? Respecting his wishes and personal boundaries? Sending him a basket full of slime? Or a bucket full of slime?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You hum and head out of your room to grab what you need.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You find yourself standing outside Karkat’s room, having flash stepped from the canteen to where you are now. Luckily Karkat’s room isn't ridiculously far away from everything, you guess he likes being close to things?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You rattle your knuckles on the door and wait, it takes several minutes before the metallic door slides open to reveal the nubby horned troll.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His expression looks practiced, like he puts on this mask of thick, furrowed brows, and the lines on his face to mark how many fucks he doesn’t give about what you’re about to say. His teeth poke out a bit too, probably the only sharp feature about him, unlike the other trolls you’ve met.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In addition to all of this, there’s something off about him. His eyes look puffy and his grey skin looks flushed and blotchy with faint red marks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you been crying?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck. You.” Is all he says before stepping back to let the doors close.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You sigh, and knock on the door again, only once this time. “I thought you were going to shove my shades up my ass and do weird shit to me. Not that I’m here specifically for that, I’m not some kind of masochist. Well, not that I’m aware of, don’t think I enjoy being humiliated and or hurt by an adorable little trollet. Or anyone. Never been my style. I don’t think that’s anyone’s style.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door slides open once more and he’s standing there with his arms folded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You take a step back just in case he does go for your shades. You pull out a cup of coffee from your sylladex and hold it out for him. “Black, a little sugar.” You offer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He eyes you and the coffee like he doesn’t believe that this is a peace offering. You don’t blame him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did you do to it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you see I went and got a mug and poured some coffee grounds in and then I boi-“ he holds up his hand for you to stop, so you do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just coffee?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just coffee,” you confirm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He bites his bottom lip, causing it to twitch a little like he should be making a noise, but you don’t hear anything. He reaches out and takes the cup, before moving back inside to let the door slide shut once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You hold up your hand to object, but it’s too late, he’s inside doing something to your -now his- peace offering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A moment later the door opens and he’s standing there again, looking up at you like you’ve pissed in his Troll Cheerios. Trollios? Treerios? Trorrios? His lips are definitely twitching, they’re tinted black where, if he were human, they would be tinted a rosey pink, which shouldn’t be the most interesting thing about his face given his grey skin and yellow sclera. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What does this mean.” He doesn’t ask, he demands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You glance around and overthink what he’s getting at by his line of questioning, because shouldn’t it be obvious? “... The coffee or?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This,” he gestures with his free hand openly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... The coffee or?” You repeat just to bother him into using a meaningful sentence, gesturing with your hand for him to elaborate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just makes this unintelligible, but loud noise in response, eyes blowing wide and fangs on full display. His back arches forward slightly and you think too hard about how expressional he is, both physically and verbally. “You making attempts to berate me, bother me, make me feel like the miserable piece of shit I know I am, and then bring me a fucking coffee like we’re about to stick our fingers in each other’s mouths and attempt the universes most awkward interpretive dance only to slam into a pile and jam it out like a couple of bros!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” you nod. So that was it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He brings his teeth together with a click and looks away. “Why don’t you just leave me alone? I’m fucking sick of not knowing what to expect from you. So you might at well go choke on someone else’s spit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wasn’t aware that your spit was a thing that was mingling around in my mouth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s an expression, you expressionless clout! That’s what I do, I subject people to dubious and convoluted streams of explicit language, and I don’t give single lackadaisical fuck!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You nod again, “believe me, I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, good!” He looks up, and you think he’s angry? But you can’t quite tell if that’s his neutral face or not. It’s also almost… Searching? Like he’s waiting for something. Most likely you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You reserve the right to look back down at him, guessing that he must be having a hard time reading your expression behind the massive aviators covering your eyes. Maybe he’s just faced with his own sour expression and that’s confusing him a little, like a cat looking in the mirror. Ha, get it, Kar-cat. You’re a genius. You like having that effect on people; the more they think about what they look like instead of you the better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes a long, hard sip of his coffee, swallowing before staring down at it with a hum. “Not terrible. At least you didn’t put milk in it like you did with Lalonde’s tea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You scratch the back of your neck and otherwise feign ignorance on the matter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” he says as he looks up at you, frank and plain. Then he takes another sip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For the coffee? It’s just coffee, dude. I honestly expected to have to bring you a bag of broritos or something in addition just to get you to talk to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For the effort,” he corrects, eyes locked on you. He’s holding the cup to his mouth, and his voice echoes into the space with the liquid. “You didn’t have to do this, and I’m acknowledging that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shrug in response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just rolls his eyes and takes another sip. “So did you want something? Or are you waiting for the punchline?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, not really,” you have to think about your answer. You did not expect this to go so well. “So are we cool?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He eyes you with scrutiny, “if by cool you mean not at a stage of going for one another’s throats, then yes. I accept your apology.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I accept yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uhuh,” he grumbles and glances back inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You look behind him, “were you busy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay… Do you want to do something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A brow shoots up at that, “like what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Play a game, watch a movie, help me write some music, go see the one and only Mayor of legend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hums and stares down at his coffee thoughtfully. “Cards or checkers or something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Poker? Ever play poker?” You ask hopefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cocks a brow at you, “poker?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh…” You have to think about how to explain poker. “So you get the dealer, dealing out cards, and you need to get the good combo of cards, and try and work out if you have a better cards than other people.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, right. I know of it.” He nods, “I don’t know how to play exactly. And even if I did, do I look like someone that has any luck or a competent ability to bluff?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Fair enough. Monopoly?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That game is designed to destroy relationships. Do you want us to descend to another face off? Remember last time we tried that game? Fucking hell.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay…” Fucking hell. “Uno?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He folds an arm across his chest. “Not a terrible idea. I actually liked that one. And it only makes me want to punch something a little.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only a little,” you sneer, “we have our winner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He scoffs and finishes the coffee like a champ. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Reverse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Reverse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Reverse.” You place the card down slowly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck. You.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You have to laugh, because you could keep going on like this for hours just to see him get annoyed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You both have settled in the canteen room, a good twenty minutes or so into your second round of Uno. You enjoy it, and it seems like he enjoys it to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you’re using your time powers I swear I will-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” You tease. “What you gonna do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You glares at you intently before putting down a green card.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thought so.” You keep playing, though you aren’t using any time powers like he suspects. You’ve got skill, why would you bother cheating? Besides, fuck time travel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think we may have been better off with monopolgy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Monopoly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That, yes,” he stares at his cards intently, still holding six of them. “So you’re feeling better?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You look down at your own three cards, “about anything specific or just in general?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugs, playing another card. “Better than when you were messaging me earlier.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, right. I guess,” you haven’t got a card, you need to take one. Nope, another one. Shit. “Do you really think I hate you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hums, and you can feel him looking over at you with more attention than the cards. “No,” he decides, glancing back at his cards. “But I do however think you’ve just ran out of options, otherwise you wouldn’t have bothered coming to me with your problems. That’s how it usually goes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You blink and it feels like a slow movement, one that you’re strangely hyper-aware of. You glance over to see him placing down another card, it’s blue, the number is four. “F.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He scoffs, playing another blue. “It’s quieter now, though. No more ‘oh Karkat I need advice’ or ‘help me you don’t have a life anyway’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Since the humans got here and spoiled all your fun with pesky interspecies romance?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pauses and watches you place a card. “Kind of. It was fine for a while. I kept busy, we all seemed to keep busy. Then we got too busy, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess,” you agree, wishing you used a different word. “Karkat?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You want to ask, but it might be too much. Or wrong. Or awkward. Or pointless. Or any number of things. “... Nothing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He frowns, but continues to play.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If it was some enquiry into my personal life, or you trying to simp for pity points, don’t. I just want to forget everything for a while.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You huff in a way that should have been a laugh, but there’s no smile there. “Me too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uno, shitstick.” He forces down his second last card.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You squint at the cards, before slowly placing your own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t do it,” he warns.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Reverse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He falls down onto the table dramatically, head falling into his arms, revealing his mess of black curls and those two tiny candy corns jabbing out of his skull. One day you’ll ask if they’re bone or like keratin or some shit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He throws the two cards at you lazily, admitting defeat in the only way he seems to know how. Sorely.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gotcha.” You smile.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So college has started and I’m going to be busy. I have been busy tbh, hence why this update took so long.</p><p>I have another hs fanfic in the works, I might tell you what it’s about next chapter notes if you ask. Let me know if it’s something you’d be interested in.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A friendly game.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There’s something really quite otherworldly about lying back with heavy lidded eyes and dead limbs. You like it, or you’ve taught yourself to believe that you do. You welcome the feeling of being tired at times, of being able to lay on your back and pretend you don’t exist as your muscles start to tingle from their own limp weight, and your skin becomes sprinkled with goosebumps.</p>
<p>You wonder if any of your friends have ever felt like this; alone, thoughtful; a peaceful sort of empty. Then you ponder down the road of who would have been the one to do it, because this is your downtime, and you have no intention of doing anything besides sinking into your own body of thoughts.</p>
<p>You hear a notification ring through your respiteblock, and from your position on the floor, glare at the offensive husktop conjuring the heinous noise. Now who could that be? Wow, you sure do have a vast list of people that go out of their way to talk to you<em> . </em></p>
<p>You ignore it, and close your eyes.</p>
<p>… <em> Probably Gamzee</em>, back when he was always licking sopor slime from his fingers like an infant getting their first taste of grub sauce. You don’t imagine any of the rest of your friends had so little to do that they would have the patience to sit back and just… Feel.</p>
<p>Another notification rings, and you let out a sigh before reaching over to pull the damn husktop close so you can video call the self-serving cockbite. Yeah, you’re extending your vocabulary, and <em> totally </em> not for Dave’s benefit.</p>
<p>“<em>What </em>?” You moan out with all the energy you can muster. Which isn’t that much given your current state, but you hope he can tell your going to the extra effort to sound tired but animated by the attention.</p>
<p>“Oh nice to see you too.”</p>
<p>You scoff and throw up the middle finger.</p>
<p>“Why are you lying on the ground?”</p>
<p>“Minding my own business, you shameshitting fucktardian.” You know you’re capable of uttering far more accomplished wordplay than that, and is does he, so you throw him off the scent before he catches on. “Why are you always so full of shit, Strider?”</p>
<p>“In one of those moods, are we?”</p>
<p>You raise your hand to gesture with it, in a vague way that you have a tendency to do when something gets you going. “If by <em> one of those moods </em>, you mean desperately clambering for a way to make you take a fucking hint.”</p>
<p>“A hint at your intense need to respond to everything I say?” You can hear the smug smile in his voice, you don’t even have to look.</p>
<p>“N-“ you shut your mouth, and sit up to glare at the screen where Dave is leaning against a dull grey wall with some pictures pinned up; some drawings, some photographs.</p>
<p>He laughs softly, and you don’t dislike the sound. “Okay. I know I’m not interrupting anything, because one;” he points at you, “you wouldn’t have answered, and two;” he flips you the proverbial bird with two fingers, “what the fuck is even there to interrupt? Jacking off? I doubt it, you don’t come across as the type; too angry all the time to be able to concentrate on something like that.”</p>
<p>You just frown at the screen and pull it into your lap. “I am not angry all the time.”</p>
<p> “... Bullshit. It’s practically your defining character trait. You’ve got an anger problem, dude, but big deal. It’s not like it’s your worst feature.”</p>
<p>Your brow quirks up. “Then what is?”</p>
<p>He pauses, lips slightly parted to reveal the front teeth of his lower jaw; so flat and useless. He either genuinely didn’t expect to be asked this or he’s about to come up with some crackhead word-vomit. Or both. “Physical or personal?”</p>
<p>There’s both? Of course there is, but, wow.. “Surprise me,” you dare in a low tone.</p>
<p>“Hmm,” he hums lightheartedly, completely ignoring the threat in your voice. “How about we make this a bit more entertaining? ‘m not in a ‘bully the troll kid’ mood.”</p>
<p>“Uhuh, sure,” you gruff out, “what were you thinking, in your infinite wisdom, Dave?”</p>
<p>He hums, lips tightening before they pop. “Truth or dare?”</p>
<p>You shake your head in disbelief. “Seriously?”</p>
<p>“You ever played?” His body shifts, as if he’s rocking ever so slightly.</p>
<p>“No. But I know how if that’s what you’re getting at.”</p>
<p>“Okay. Then…?” He leads.</p>
<p>You hold your hand against your forehead, ruffling up the matter black curls dripping down to your brows. “Do I have to?”</p>
<p>“I mean… The game tends to be more fun if you do.”</p>
<p>Your hand slides down your face, dragging the skin as you loosely nod, “sure, okay. Who goes first?”</p>
<p>“I’ll be generous and let you lead since you tend to like that role.”</p>
<p>You recoil for a moment from that, and stare incredulously at him. “... Okay, thanks for making it weird, bulgebreath. Truth or dare?”</p>
<p>“Dare.”</p>
<p>You gawk at him. “Fuck you!” Your voice raises, cracking just a little.</p>
<p>“Nope. Not how you play.”</p>
<p>“I dare you to come over here <em> right now </em>so I can promptly shove my foot up your ass!”</p>
<p>“All about that ass, once again,” he turns away. “How about we agree a prompt foot up the ass is the forfeit? Footing? Fisting? Foot-fisting? Because feet are just long... deformed hands…” he shakes his head and a sour expression dawns on him.</p>
<p>“You know what, fine.”</p>
<p>“I’ll be over in a minute, though. Easy dare, bet you thought I wouldn’t do it.”</p>
<p>“That wasn’t a real d-“ You hear a knocking on your door and snap up to attention. “Were you outside my block this whole time?” You ask the husktop screen, only to see that Dave has ended the call.</p>
<p>“It’s the time cop, open up.” You hear from outside. “You have the right to remain nubby, and anything you do about those pathetic little horns will-“</p>
<p>Your at the door as it opens, your bitter -but not serious- expression greets him.</p>
<p>“Truth or dare?” He asks.</p>
<p>You move aside to let him in. “How terrible a person are you?”</p>
<p>He shrugs and takes a few steps inside until the metal door shuts behind him, “reasonably so.”</p>
<p>“... Fair enough,” you scoff, and go sit down on your pile, realising for a second that he might see that as an invitation for him to join you, so you attempt to take up as much space as possible, and you’re positive it looks more than a little awkward. “Truth.”</p>
<p>He sits down in front of you and the pile with one leg crossed over the other, “afraid to dare?”</p>
<p>“Reasonable so,” you counter, raising your chin.</p>
<p>“Fair,” he chuckles, “what’s the worst lie you ever told?”</p>
<p>Your brows furrow, “worst as in non-convincing or worst as in morally questionable.”</p>
<p>“Oh… Uh,” he scratches his chin. “Non convincing, let’s wait to get into the deep dark pits of our souls. Start off soft and easy.”</p>
<p>You scratch the back of your palm. “Telling people I hate them, probably?” You question that yourself, because you’re reasonably sure that’s the least convincing thing you say to people, since they never seem to take you seriously. “Truth or dare?”</p>
<p>“Dare.”</p>
<p>“Come on, you know I have a question.” You whine, and hate him for it.</p>
<p>“Yeah, me too. Now dare me, kitkat.”</p>
<p>You huff and fold your arms, and try to conjure something ridiculous for Dave to do. “I dare you to answer my question.”</p>
<p>He huffs at that. “Nope, that’s not how the game works. This isn’t Truth or Truth in Dare’s Clothing.”</p>
<p>“Fuck sake…” You glance away in absent annoyance. “Then, I don’t know, say ‘my name is Dave and I am a vicious, two faced prick’.”</p>
<p>“My name is Dave and I am a vicious, two faced prick. Easy. Truth of dare?”</p>
<p>“Dare.”</p>
<p>“Ohh, interesting. Say ‘I am Karkat and I am in inconceivable in love with myself’.”</p>
<p>“... I am Karkat and I am inconceivably in love with myself? … Truth or dare.”</p>
<p>“Truth.”</p>
<p>“<em>Finally</em>. What do you think is my worst feature?” You lean closer, ever curious.</p>
<p>He drums his fingers against his legs as if to warn you. “How you assume that everything you say or do is alright just because you’ve got your reasons, or that people will understand and accept that it’s ‘just the way you are’, or move on, even though that’s no excuse for being a shit to people.”</p>
<p>“I am not like that!” You defend.</p>
<p>He wiggles a finger. “Ah ah, that’s my truth, accept it or back out and lose. Besides, it’s my turn now. Truth or dare?”</p>
<p>“Truth.” You spit out.</p>
<p>“What’s your biggest fear?”</p>
<p>“Pass.”</p>
<p>“You can pass, but you have to do a dare instead. If you don’t do the dare, you do the forfeit.”</p>
<p>“No feet are going up any asses tonight, Strider.”</p>
<p>“What. No no,” he tilts his head in thought. “The forfeit is the ultimate dare that you don’t ever want to do and will probably ruin any sense of a positive friendship between us ever occurring again. The stuff of legends, like Orpheus and Eurydice.”</p>
<p>“That’s a romantic tragedy,” you correct, “but I get what you’re saying.”</p>
<p>“You know about Greeks?” He raises a hand, “how exactly?”</p>
<p>“You seriously think I haven’t read about your world’s most iconic romance stories? Ancient and modern? Tragic and comedic?”</p>
<p>“What I think is that you have spent way too much time absorbing the culture of a race you were bent on shitting on for the rest of your life.”</p>
<p>“At least I appreciate culture, you postmodern, satirical waste of space.”</p>
<p>“I think it’d be more appropriate to say I’m a waste of <em> time </em>.”</p>
<p>You look him up and down, “you disgust me, Dave. Your humour makes my stomach churn and my skin crawl.”</p>
<p>“Happy to make you feel something beyond boiling rage induced by what I can only assume is a severe case of Tourettes,” he grins, “but weren’t we playing a game?”</p>
<p>“Right…” you groan out. “What’s the dare?”</p>
<p>“Perform an interpretive dance of your favourite movie’s plot synopsis.”</p>
<p>“What.”</p>
<p>“You heard me.”</p>
<p>“You’re…” You don’t… Ah, fuck it. “Do you want to know the name of the movie or?”</p>
<p>“You really think I’m daring you to do this because I’m interested in the movie.”</p>
<p>“Whatever,” you get up and do a spin, kick some blankets before twirling one around your head and throwing it over Dave’s head. “There.”</p>
<p>Dave claps and removes the blanket from his head. “And here I thought troll movies had insanely long plots.”</p>
<p>“Long titles, you ignorant douche. And you said ‘synopsis’. I physically performed a short summary of my favourite movie.”</p>
<p>“Fair,” he shrugs. “Truth, by the way.”</p>
<p>You sit back, “why do you always wear those glasses?”</p>
<p>“They’re sweet.”</p>
<p>“No, like, do you need them because you have a condition or are you just one of those assholes?”</p>
<p>“You only get one answer.”</p>
<p>“‘they’re sweet’ is not an answer.”</p>
<p>“Fine; I like them, and I prefer wearing them because it feels nice to wear them. Is that answer more to your satisfaction?”</p>
<p>You shrug, “I guess. It’s still weird. Truth.”</p>
<p>“Is your blood some kind of an issue?”</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>He rolls his hand to get you to elaborate.</p>
<p>“It’s bad, but it’s also meaningless now that my species is bound for extinction after me and these three remaining fuckwads can no longer function.”</p>
<p>He nods, “okay. Touchy subject then. Truth.”</p>
<p>“Was Jade your first crush?”</p>
<p>“Pretty much, yeah.”</p>
<p>“Truth.”</p>
<p>“Was Terezi yours?”</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>“Really?”</p>
<p>“Yes?”</p>
<p>“Okay. Dare.”</p>
<p>“I dare you to…” There really wasn’t much to do on a meteor, even with a dare. “Don’t wipe off what I’m about to draw on your face for… three nights.”</p>
<p>He appears legitimately bothered by this. “You think I’m not going to wash my face for three nights slash days?” He leans back, “how fucking often do you wash yourself? Because now I’m worried.”</p>
<p>You roll your eyes, “fine. One singular night.”</p>
<p>“Twelve hours.”</p>
<p>“Deal. Now hold still while I get to work.” You find a felt tip and start drawing little hearts on his cheeks.</p>
<p>“Do I get to see this masterpiece or am I to suffer in ignorance.”</p>
<p>“You can see when I’m done.”</p>
<p>“If you pick dare I’m drawing dicks all over your face.”</p>
<p>You chuckle, and give those shades a stare and wonder for a moment what the hell is going on behind them. “Okay, done,” you announce and sit back to admire your work.</p>
<p>He takes out his phone and arches his head to check out the ink staining his face. “This is just about the gayest shit I’ve had done to me.”</p>
<p>You tilt your head at that, a little lost on the concept you know only a little about. “You say the strangest shit sometimes, you know that?”</p>
<p>He sits his phone down and shrugs his shoulders, “I’m aware of it.”</p>
<p>“And yet you keep on opening that dumb trap of yours.”</p>
<p>“Like you don’t do the exact same thing.”</p>
<p>You have no argument for that, it’s just true. “I don’t want to play anymore.”</p>
<p>“Don’t want retaliation for this; the most heinous of crimes?” He points at you accusingly.</p>
<p>“Maybe some other time. There’s only so long you can play truth or dare before it gets boring or escalates out of reasonable control.”</p>
<p>“Suppose so. But Dave will remember this,” his lips twitch just a bit. “And Dave will never again refer to himself in the third person, because holy shit he sound like a douche.”</p>
<p>You scoff and pick yourself up, “let’s go see the mayor.”</p>
<p>“Oh hell yes.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>sorry about any spelling/grammar mistakes, the final edit of this was done while tired af.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This will have multiple chapters that will discuss some heavy themes such as past abuse, bullying, depression, etc.</p><p>It’s going to be a bumpy ride. But I promise it has a happy/hopeful ending.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>